Living in Northern New Zealand, in a place of splendor, I was shocked
and saddened to come home to find Monarch butterflies suffering from being
stung by wasps. Some died. I picked up one who was barely alive and
brought him inside. He hung, motionless. His wings were shriveled and a
small hole was torn from the edge of his wing. It was perhaps 14 hours of
this motionless behavior, so I was afraid that he, too, had died. When he
was stung, he was still in the defenseless ‘clinging while drip-drying’
stage, where their wings straighten out from their 10-14 day stay in the
chrysalis. (The chrysalis, also called the pupa, is well camouflaged a
green color, as it has no other means of defense against predators.) He
had just emerged from the chrysalis, but didn’t yet know what it was like
to be a butterfly and fly in the sky. Then, high and behold, to my great
relief, he gracefully fluttered his wings, twice. Minutes later, he
beautifully spread his wings again. I could easily identify him as a male
because males have a black spot on the vein of each hind wing.

It was raining outside, so he was inside. When the rain stopped, he’d
go out for some fresh air and flower-hopping. He’d step up onto my finger
like a trained pet. He was handicapped and I was his wheelchair. He was
teaching me that insects understand more than I thought! On day 3, life’s
duties called me away so I left him outside. I soon became anxious that I
left him unattended, vulnerable to wasps. I hurried home to find him at
the beginning of the grassy path to my door. I put my finger out in front
of him, and he stepped on. We went Zinnia hopping and he had the time of
his life; from pink, to yellow, to orange; which was his favorite. They
were color coordinated. I felt truly honored to share these moments in the
life of a butterfly. His tentacle sort of nose served as a straw. He
precisely stuck it in each pinprick hole of each tiny flower in the center
of Zinnia petals. He would dive in and out, then on to another, using this
feeler that uncurled from his forehead. He had impeccable aim. He didn’t
want to leave the orange Zinnia, but I nudged him and escorted him over to
a yellow Zinnia in its perfected state. When he drank, his wings quivered,
ever so slightly, like they were being rejuvenated. I took him over to a
Garland Daisy, and in no time at all he stepped back on to my finger. It
seems he was not enthralled with this flower. He enjoyed the Coreopsis a
bit more as a change from his usual favorite, the Zinnia. Apparently, the
Monarchs use vision to find flowers, but once they land on a flower they
use taste receptors on their feet to find nectar.

I had become a butterfly babysitter, putting him to sleep into his
motionless, upright position. It amazed me; this immediate trust between a
butterfly and a human.

Again, life’s duties called me away. On day 4, two friends came during
the day to tend to him. He had the pleasure of meeting two more vegan
women; both very gentle like him. One of them was calling him
‘Transformation’. The weather turned blustery and showery, once again, so
we were bringing him in and out. On this day, he was more serious about
drinking the elixir of life; flower nectar, which is about 20% sugar.
Later, we went for a practice flying session. His wings were still quite
curled up. Inside, he went right into his upright, sleep position. I would
lie on my bed and think while looking at him. Every once in awhile, he
would open and close his wings. I would recall what I was thinking when he
extended his wings and interpreted it as a mystical message, thus came his
name, Mystical.

It’s now day 5 of befriending a butterfly. He can’t go out yet, as the
weather is too harsh for him. I woke him up and said good morning. He
fluttered his wings and then went back to his still position. He didn’t
drink in the morning nor from flowers I brought him.

I was leaving for a week and he was a full-time job. What to do with
him became of great concern. He was at his best today because the sun had
finally shone upon his wings. I would lift him to the sunny blue sky and
inspire him to fly by singing a little tune that went like this: ‘What
could be more fun than flying in the sun?’ He’d start flapping his wings
and begin flying. When he landed in the grass, I’d put my finger in front
of him and his fragile, weightless, black legs stepped up unto my finger.
He tried again. This time he flew over to the flower garden. On his very
own, he flew from Zinnia to Zinnia! I was standing guard, shooing away
wasps. It was our happiest moments together. He flew and landed right next
to a bumblebee on a flower. The bee paid no attention to him, but I
separated them. Another Monarch butterfly was soaring near. Various flying
beings were competing for the flower nectar.

I introduced him to the guests who had arrived today as ‘Mystical
Transformation’; a combination of the two names given to him. Two young
gentle people looked after him while I left for an hour. They seemed to
have a mutual affection for each other. When I returned, I discovered that
he had flown away, (while they were tending to another butterfly that was
fatally stung by a wasp). My initial feeling was sadness because I didn’t
believe he could survive on his own. I looked around for him. Two other
guests, who had witnessed his flying away with a breeze, showed me his
path of flight. We searched the forest floor to no avail. Then we looked
up, right where he supposedly flew. Out of our reach, was a butterfly
resting on a softly swaying tree branch against a blue-sky. This butterfly
wasn’t the usual fluttery butterfly, which made us think it was my special
friend. He was the picture of contentment. His wings were straight,
though. Could it possibly have been Mystical Transformation? Could his
wings have straightened out? Did he live up to his name? Was it a sad or
an incredibly happy ending? I don’t know for sure, but I hope that a
creature with the incredible power to transform himself from a crawling
caterpillar to a flying being, must also have the power to heal the wings
he so magically created. What I do know for sure is that for five days I
was in love with a butterfly, and so, hold the mysticism of his being in
mine.

The habitats of Monarch butterflies are becoming threatened in both
hemispheres. We can plant Milkweed, the family of plants that they live
on. Swan plants, (in the Milkweed family), known to attract the Monarch in
New Zealand, also attracts wasps. You can protect the butterfly by making
a safer environment for them by:

Pruning the flowers off that attract the wasps of the Swan Plant,

Plant the Swan plants near to where you can closely keep an eye on
it and then protect the caterpillars, the pupae, and the newly emerged
butterfly from it’s broken-through chrysalis that was once lined with
bans of gem-like gold, or

Plant Milkweed that has the yellow and red flower. The wasps did not
seem to be interested in this flower as much as the white flowers of the
more popular Swan Plant.

Especially protect newborn butterflies when they are drip-drying
their wings after emerging from the chrysalis. Their green and 14 karat
gold banned pupa turns to a translucent color where one can see the
black and orange of the butterfly right through it. When this happens,
the butterfly is soon to emerge. Leave it attached to the plant from
which it hangs and somehow make sure it is safe from wasps at this
stage. This might mean bringing it indoors, depending on what type of
plant it was attached to. If it is a hardy leaf like a Caana Lily leaf,
then prune the stalk with the leaf and place it indoors for protection.

Plant the Milkweed amongst bushy plants such as Dahlias or Zinnias,
where they can form and then hide their chrysalis.

Our reward for this little extra effort is not only a feeling of
satisfaction for helping to sustain an effective pollinator of such
natural beauty, but the butterfly’s first flight will be taken from your
hand!

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